Hetalia One-shots
by ArthurTwerklan
Summary: A variety of one-shots with unique ships that i love. Rated M for lemons and mature themes
1. SeaMark

The doorbell chimed in a melodious pattern that could only reflect my foster mother's mood, a cacophony of jolly jingles that mixed together harmoniously. I rocked on the balls of my feet, the edges of my capris shorts ruffling in the slight breeze. Sure, some people would say it's cold here in Finland, but I was accustomed to the constant cold, being located in the middle of the ocean where the wind blew in a constant routine, bringing frigid airs and ominous storms. And visiting my foster parents so often has allowed me time to adapt to the cold.

The door opened and I was greeted with the Finnish man himself, beaming down at me with that always-present smile that seemed to brighten up the mood. It seemed to cancel out the hauntingly intimidating vibe Sweden seemed to radiate from his place behind the jolly nation. However, I seemed to be immune to Sweden's scary gaze and just smiled brightly up at them.

"Hey Mumsy and Poppa!" I cry, flinging myself into the arms of Finland, who wrapped his strong arms around me. I liked the way his arms felt, they weren't anything like Jerk Britain's arms, which were wimpy and meant for holding books, not guns. Most people were surprised when I said Finland had muscles, maybe because he always claimed to be "a delicate flower". But only a few people had seen past the weak façade, to the side where he could shoot a tin can 100 meters away.

"Hello Sealand! I hope you don't mind, but Mister Denmark is going to stop by today," Finland informed me in his heavily accented voice. I nodded excitedly. I had only met the Danish man once, but from Finland's repetitive stories and Sweden's crude remarks about him, I knew he was an interesting man. Finland ushered me inside and shut the door behind me as I ran off into the living room, plopping down energetically on the couch. Almost as soon as I sat down, a puff of white greeted me, and I extended my arms to greet the moving fluff ball.

"Hanatamago!" I cry, embracing the dog as it sniffed and licked my face. I giggled, stroking my fingers through Hana's soft fur. Finland and Sweden soon joined me, creating a cute family portrait.

Until the rapid ringing of the doorbell interrupted us.

Instead of the jolly tune, the notes of the bells were intermingled, creating a messy slush of repetitive notes that didn't mix in the slightest. Sweden grumbled under his breath (most likely a string of Swedish curses) while Finland hopped to his feet and ran to the door, Hana stumbling along in his stead. The door creaked open and there was intense yelling of incomprehensible words as well as a lot of banging noises, and my curiosity got the best of me, I pulled myself to my feet from Sweden's comfortable Ikea couch and shuffled back towards the doorway. I was met with the sigh of a large man squeezing me Mumsy to death. I ran to her aid, trying not be mesmerized by the large man's deep laugh, which sounded strangely sweet in my ears. Before I could intervene and save my Mumsy from her impending doom, Finland began to laugh, patting the man on the back and prying himself away.

"Oh Mister Denmark, you always were overly affectionate!" Finland exclaimed to the beaming man. My eyes widened. This was Denmark? For some reason, he was different than I remembered. Or that may have been my imagination; I haven't seen him in over a year.

"Oh Sealand, I didn't even notice you! You've met Mister Denmark before, ya?" Finland questions, turning to me. I can feel the gaze of the Danish man on me and I suppress a shudder, which attempts to crawl up my spine for reasons unknown. I subconsciously move closer to Finland, who laughs and wraps an arm around my shoulder. This action helps to soothe my creeping chills.

"Oh yeah, the micro nation! Hey there!" Denmark says energetically, bouncing up and down slightly. The vibrations rocked the hardwood floor and I shrunk back slightly. But I immediately shot up after he called me a micro nation.

"I'm not a micro nation! I'm a country!" I yell defiantly, crossing my arms "And one day you guys are going to realize that!" I pout. Denmark tilts his head slightly while Finland chuckles nervously, patting my back softly.

"Right! Now Sealand, why don't you stay and play with Mister Denmark upstairs while I talk to Mister Sweden!" Finland says before rushing off back into the living room. No sooner had the words left his mouth had the Dane began to drag me upstairs, acting like a child on sugar hives.

"I hope you like Legos Sealand!" Denmark announces as he drags me to the attic, where a collection of Legos await me.

I frown slightly. Now I understand why Wy was so annoyed at me. And she thought I was childish. Clearly she never met the Danish man before me. Part of me believed he was even more eerie than Sweden just because of his overly flamboyant attitude.

"Denmark, calm down!" I cry, for one feeling mature despite my young physical appearance. Mentally, I had the mind of a grown human, so that had to count for something!

"Sealand! I thought kids were supposed to be fun! Don't kids like Legos?" He questions with a slight pout.

"I'm an adult!" I protest loudly. I'm surprised when Denmark is suddenly directly in front of me, peering down at me with brilliant blue eyes.  
>"You're an adult huh?" He questions and I gulp, nodding bravely.<p>

"Uh-huh I am!" I say, crossing my arms. "And I'm also a country and I have a big heart!"

I gasp as my feet leave the floor and I'm lying against the carpeted floorboards where the Legos don't seem to be present. Denmark is hovering over me, looking like a cat that just caught a mouse. And by the terrified squeak that just left my mouth due to the Dane's sweet movements, one could infer that's what the scenario was.

"Well, an adult wouldn't mind if I did this then," Denmark said, moving a finger so it lightly grabbed the azure tie wrapped lazily around my neck. He tugged it gently and I gasped, my enlarged sailor hat slipping off my head and onto the floor below me. Denmark smirked at the reaction, moving so his fingers moved to the buttons on my sailor suit. The touch was foreign to me. Despite my mental age, I had never experienced such a feeling that the Dane supplied me with. Maybe it was because I looked like a prepubescent boy and nobody would want to subject them to that. I mean, this wasn't Boku no Pico here.

"You like that, don't you, Sealand" Denmark whispers in my ear before biting the lobe teasingly. I gasp and Denmark trails his mouth down to my mouth, attaching his large lips to my smaller ones. Because of my surprise, it was easy for him to slip his tongue inside, exploring the miniscule cavern with the large muscle. I couldn't control the childish moan that grew in my throat and escaped my mouth in between the heated kiss. Denmark obviously was pleased, trailing his kiss down from my mouth to my neck, biting at the tender skin there. I could feel my brain malfunction, the blood necessary for processing what was happening flowing to a location south of the intended organ.

Suddenly, Denmark ripped open my shirt, the sound of a button flying off echoing through the room as it landed amongst the scattered Legos. I didn't care right now; I was too busy focused on the cold that found its way onto my now exposed chest. Denmark didn't pause for a moment, pulling off my small tie and moving his mouth so his tongue slid down my chest, ignorant to my rapidly beating heart and shudders of pleasure. I began to squirm once Denmark's mouth reached the rim of my capris shorts. His teeth grazed my tender skin as he gripped the elastic between his incisors and tugged them downward, moving my pants away so he could reach my undergarments, which were tighter due to recent events. He chuckled slightly at my reaction, moving his face back up so it faced mine, his breath tickling my cheek.

"How do you feel, Sealand? Like an adult?" he purrs and I shudder again.

"I-I don't know. Denmark, I feel weird!" I cry and Denmark hushes me by kissing my lips passionately, smirking into the kiss.

"It's okay Sealand, it's natural eskler." He comforts. I look up at him and he smiles, calming my nerves.

"W-why are your clothes still on?" I question and the Dane laughs. I furrow my eyebrows, did I say something wrong?

"If you want them off, you gotta do it yourself!" Denmark exclaims and my face is overcome with red. With shaky hands, I force myself to unbutton his shirt. Denmark helps guide my hands so the buttons slip through the holes and help to pull the sleeves out before tossing the shirt off to somewhere unknown. Denmark helps me to remove his pants, his large hands resting on top of my smaller ones as he pulls the fabric below his knees. I can see a bulge beneath his Denmark-flag printed boxers and I gulp, already anticipating the size. Denmark smirks at my reaction and detaches his hands from mine, bringing his to the waistline of my underwear and pulling them down until they met my capris. I blushed as Denmark looked downwards with a self-satisfactory smirk, seeing the raging erection I had. Sure, it was nothing to be proud of, but it was big for my size! And I was content with it nonetheless.

Denmark stroked it for a second, eliciting a groan from me at the peculiar feeling. This seemed to motivate him as he wrapped his large hands around my length, almost completely encompassing the whole mass. I arched my back into him as he rubbed his hands back and forth. This feeling was so foreign, but I embraced it nonetheless.

"Sealand~" Denmark purred and I moaned in a not-so-manly manner. This seemed to spur Denmark as he moved at a faster pace. He grunted as a warm feeling made it known in my stomach. I was about to cry out, when Denmark suddenly removed his hand. I opened my blue eyes to see him grinning down at me, loving the reaction he's obtained from me.

"Can't have all the fun without me, now can you?" He purrs and I nod hesitantly, unsure what he meant. He nods and shifts so he can remove his boxers. I gasp at the sight of his long length. He grins cockily at me, obviously proud of what he has.

Denmark positions me so I'm lying down again. He hovers over me once more.

"I'm guessing you've never done this before?" He asks. From my blush and the embarrassed turn of my head, he can guess what that means and he chuckles.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle." He says, sticking one finger inside me. I gasp in shock.

"At first" He whispers and I shudder once more as he shoves another finger in and starts scissoring through me, obviously loosening me up. It hurts and I cry out slightly, but Denmark gently kisses my nose and whispers comforting things in my ear. After a few moments, he withdraws. I sigh out in relief, but it is short lived as something else pokes the skin near the hole. I can only guess what it is, and my suspicions are confirmed as it finds the hole and sticks itself partway in, allowing me time to cry out again as the Dane groans. He moves deeper inside me and I can feel pain shoot up from the area to my mouth as I cry out again, tears springing to my eyes as more of him enters me. Denmark kisses the tears away, his lips hovering near my closed eyelids so he can catch the tears.

"Don't worry, eskler, it'll only last a moment, I promise" He says and all I can do is nod.

We wait like that for a moment, Denmark about ¾ in me. Finally the pain subsides and I nod with a weak moan. Denmark gets the message and slowly moves out before sliding back in. Instead of pain this time, I feel a strange pleasure. This new feeling causes me to gasp and groan. I can hear Denmark's throaty laugh, which still sounds angelic in my ears, as he thrusts in and out of me. I arch into him subconsciously, hardly aware of the new instinct taking over me as Denmark grunts at the effort of pushing himself into my small hole, stretching it further with each thrust. Pain lingers around the edge, but the massive amounts of pleasure that come in waves balances it out, making up for the slight uncomfortable feeling settling in my stomach. But it soon grows into a knot and I know enough to know what it is.

"Denmark, I-I! ~" I call out. Denmark nods and he thrusts faster. I can tell from the loud grunts he's close to and after another thrust I feel the release, allowing the sticky seed to plaster itself around the room, sticking to Denmark's face, my stomach and a few scatters Legos. A few thrusts later and Denmark follows my lead, releasing deep inside me. It overflows onto the carpets as he pulls out, flopping down next to me.

"Feel like an adult yet?" He questions with a goofy grin.

I nod, an odd feeling of euphoria passing through me, "If this is what being a country feels like, I can't wait until someone acknowledges me," I say dreamily.


	2. Germago

The pathway up the icicle-ridden house was quiet and covered with a light dusting of snow as Germany traversed down it. He had been invited to Sweden's house so that he could settle some diplomatic disputes between his country and the Swedish man's. Germany was never intimidated by the tall, brooding man. Sure, he had an overall aura equivalent to Russia's, but Germany wasn't afraid of this nation. Considered to the torture he had faced through his many years of war and bloodshed, this man was simply a rabid mouse.

His logic distorted, he rang the doorbell of the man's house. It was an eerie tune that would haunt any normal man, but Germany was not an ordinary man. He was surprised when he head barking behind the door and a call of a cheery man's "Hana, no barking!" As far as he knew, Sweden didn't have a dog, and he surely did not retrogress to his prepubescent days.

But when the door creaked open, a man with glasses and shaggy blonde hair was not towering over the muscled German. No, instead, a short man with brown eyes and pale blonde hair was grinning at him, only a few centimeters shorter than the German. It took the man a few minutes to recall the name of this man, due to the many years since he had glimpsed his face.

"Finland, is that jou?" Germany asked, furrowing his eyebrows to look down at the beaming man.

"Ya, welcome Germany! Sorry for Hana, she gets excited around strangers!" Finland said as a fluffy white dog weaved its way between Finland's feeble legs. When Germany's cerulean eyes landed on the dog, his eyes widened. From its shining, pure white pelt to its big black eyes, it was the most beautiful dog he had ever seen. Even in videos Germany had never seen a dog look so majestic as Hana.

Finland noticed Germany's daunting stare and smiled happily while subtly moving Hana behind his feet, cutting off Germany's stare. He coughed and looked up.

"Sorry about that. I just never knew jou had a dog," Germany said a bit unconvincingly. However, Finland simply nodded and smiled.

"You must be here for Mister Sweden, he's in his office," Finland said, opening the door fully so Germany could enter the house. Germany dipped his head thankfully, moving around the Finnish man so he could enter the tidy house. On his way in, his eyes connected with Hanatamago once more and he sucked in a breath when his azure eyes met big black ones. Shifting his gaze so the Fin would not catch him again, he allowed Finland to lead him through the large house and to a large mahogany door, in which he knocked softly. There was the shifting of papers and creaking footsteps before the door slid open, revealing the hooded eyes of the Swede, glaring down at those who dared disturb him. However, his gaze softened slightly once they landed on the Finnish man who was beaming up at him.

"Oh Mister Sweden! Mister Germany has come for the contract!" Finland said giddily. Sweden nods and opens the door more and gestured for Germany to enter. His gaze roamed the office, landing on comfy Ikea chairs and a sturdy desk stacked neatly with various papers. Germany subconsciously nodded at the overall tidiness of the room and Sweden's ability to keep organized.

"So the contract…" Sweden said in his grumbling voice. Germany averted his attention back to him and nodded curtly, taking a seat in one of the chairs. Sweden sat opposite him at a table, and it only took Germany a second to realize Hana had snuck in and was cuddled in Sweden's lap. He looked at the Swede enviously, wishing it were he that Hana had chosen to lay on. Sweden was oblivious however, and just pulled out the contract, starting in the monotone voice.

And for once, Germany zoned out.

Throughout the entire meeting, his gaze was fixed on Hanatamago. Of course Sweden didn't notice, he was far too oblivious. Germany hardly knew what the agreement was when he signed absent-mindedly. Hana was staring back at Germany, and right at the end of the meeting she had left Sweden's embrace and was instead lay comfortably in Germany's lap. He started to sweat, unaccustomed to such intimate actions. Hesitantly, he began to stroke the dog. It's fur felt softer, less coarse than when he pet his own dogs. The feeling was nice against his calloused fingers, soothing them and bringing waves of pleasure through him. He hardly noticed Sweden's stoic, albeit slightly concerned, look as he continued to caress the dog lovingly. He had never felt such a feeling around his three large dogs, Hanatamago was special. It was a feeling far more potent than the generic connection between man-and-dog, it was something _much _more. It was a feeling that sent tingles up the strong German, sending a sense of euphoria through him. It made him want to go back to that field and pick dandelions, but not for the coffee, no he wanted to braid them into this dog's hair.

His feelings for this dog only intensified as he knotted his large fingers in the dog's pure-white fur. And when the dog stared into his eyes once more, he finally reached a sudden conclusion.

He needed this dog.

One way or another he had to take this dog. Be it stealing her from Sweden and Finland or even killing them, he was taking this dog.

Staring at the entity below him, he tightened his grip around the fluffy mass ever so slightly. Just enough for himself and the dog to feel it, but Hanatamago paid no mind to Germany's actions, instead rolling lazily onto its stomach. A faint smile tugged at Germany's lips as he rubbed its stomach sensually, bringing his hand up and down, up and down.

Sweden's coughing brought Germany back to reality, pulling him away from the thoughts that revolved solely around the dog resting in his lap. He turned his head up to see the Swede standing up, glancing down intimidatingly at the German below him.

"I think this meeting can be concluded," he says stolidly, not even batting an eyelash. Germany nods solemnly, although he was not quite ready to depart. He couldn't leave Hana, not after developing such strong feelings for her. Who knew the next time he'd catch a glimpse of this dog again.

"Uh, ja, okay" Germany said, hesitantly raising himself to his feet, the dog sliding downwards as he plopped the fluffy being onto the hardwood floor begrudgingly. He followed Sweden out the door, struggling not to look back at the dog that was sitting on the floor; head tilted slightly and wondering why the man she had warmed up to was leaving. As Germany advanced towards the door, Finland appeared. He smiled broadly at the German and the Swede, inspecting them with cheery brown eyes.

"Mister Germany it's getting late, why don't you join us for dinner?" He asked jollily, looking up at the German. He remembered when Finland couldn't look into anyone's eyes, maybe spending time with someone as scary as Sweden has loosened him up a bit.

Germany's heart was pounding and he was sure everyone could hear it. Staying meant more time with Hanatamago. He needed that time, no matter how short. He didn't care if he had to eat at the pace of a snail, he would prolong his moments with Hanatamago until there was no room left to stall. He tried to disguise his eager attitude as he nodded swiftly, muttering a "Danke" and following the zealous Finn out to the dining room, where there were already three plates out with a traditional Finnish meal. Germany supposed that Finland counted on his manners to say 'yes' and attend the meal.

The meal was satisfying to Germany's taste buds. The entirety of the meal, Hanatamago lingered under Germany's chair. He would surreptitiously drop his fork and bend down in order to pet the dog and give him pieces of his meal. The dog happily wagged her tail and licked at his food-ridden fingers in hopes of tasting the meal second-hand. He always resurfaced from under the table with a flushed red face and fingers that felt ready to fall off from the lingering tingles sent through his nerves.

After dinner, Finland insisted on him staying for dessert. It must've been his overall want to please everybody that caused the Finn to keep the German so long. But as he went to make the dessert in honor of the new contract, he found he was short on flour and eggs.

"Me and Sweden will just stop by the store downtown, we'll be back in a few minutes. Will you be alright here alone with Hana?" Finland asked, a look of worry etched through his features.

_"Sweden and I," _Germany mumbled under his breath, allowing his inner Grammar Nazi to surface.

"What?" Finland asked, confused, straining to hear Germany's uttered syllables.

"Nothing! I'll be fine alone, don't worry about me!" Germany said quickly to cover the rude remark said previously. Really, he was looking forward to being alone. _Alone. With Hanatamago. _Germany thought, face filling with red slightly at the thought. Finally, he could be around the dog he had attached himself to without the presence of either of the other countries. What luck he had!

"Alright, we'll try not to take long!" Finland said, grabbing Sweden's muscled arm and pulling him towards the door.

"Oh take your time," Germany said and wished they would. It would mean more time with _her._

The door closed with a loud bang, which resounded in the silent house. Shortly after, Germany could hear Hana's paw steps as she padded over to Germany, stopping beside him and glancing up at his face. He looked down, his breath catching in his chest as he looked at her face. She was still more beautiful than any female he had ever seen, human or dog. With the silky threads of hair that coated her slim body, the way she licked her lips with that small, pink tongue, the way her nose twitched and her ears flicked at every moment. How her eyes shone and sparkled with every look. She was perfect through and through and Germany knew he _needed _her.

He knew he had a deadline to enact his plan. But Germany was a master at time management, and he could do what he wanted in 15 minutes. So he gingerly picked up the object of his affection and carried her upstairs, navigating through the elegant hallways in search of the room he desired. And finally, after opening the last door on the second floor, he found it.

A bedroom.

Smirking to himself, he shuffled over the dog, where he tenderly released her. She stared up at her German lover with wide eyes, not quite comprehending what he planned to do. However, the German was only more aroused by her innocence. But that would change, right now.

Seeing as his companion was already as naked as she could be, he quickly stripped off his military jacket and pulled his black tank top over his head. He knew Hana would be no help in doing this seeing as she was did not have opposable thumbs. So he took on the burden himself, unbuttoning his militaristic army pants and stripping them from his body along with his shining black boots. He was left towering over the animal with only his patched up boxers.

The boxers were tight around him, almost to the point he felt the seams would burst again. Due to how uncomfortable it felt, he removed them quickly. Now he stood completely naked as well, the dog's eyes hovering over Germany and being attracted to a rather large, throbbing organ. The dog crawled over to Germany and looked up. Due to Germany standing up, his torso was about level with the bed. The dog was closer to Germany and she gently prodded the heated organ with her nose, causing him to shudder at its wet touch. Just that small touch was almost enough to send Germany over the edge. He grunted and Hana tilted her head, slightly confused with his reaction. Nevertheless, her attention was quickly drawn back to the muscled organ before her, still confused as to what it was. It smelled good to her, and she curiously licked it. Germany was looking down at her with half-lidded eyes as she curiously prodded the organ in ways that made Germany moan and shift under her care. He didn't think a dog such as Hana would know so much about this sort of thing.

Unable to contain his primal instincts, he grabbed Hanatamago by the scruff of her neck, eliciting a sharp howl from her. This turned Germany on even more as he finally lay on the bed, hovering over the dog that was now on her stomach. She was glancing up at the man, confused as to what he was doing. However, comprehension seemed to dawn on her when his hard organ brushed again her small hole, the tip alone way bigger than it. She yelped as Germany tried to put as much of himself in her as he could, stretching Hanatamago to her limits. He hardly paid attention to her shifting as she tried to adjust to his size, blood leaking out of the hole and coating his organ. He grunted in pleasure and withdrew a bit to slide in again, this time further. Hana eventually relaxed, now used to Germany, and allowed him to slide in and out of her. As opposed to when he usually did this, he didn't last nearly as long. Maybe because just seeing Hana under him like that made him want to release. So only a few minutes in and he had released into her, overflowing onto the bed and mixing with specks of blood. After he pulled out, Hanatamago fixed herself on the bed and hopped down, waddling and limping a bit as she made her way for the door. Germany was quick to cover up the evidence and made his way back downstairs just as Sweden and Finland returned.

"Sorry for taking so long!" Finland announced once he came in.

"Oh it was not a problem, I hardly noticed" Germany said, trying not to smirk.


	3. 2p! England

**2p! England – Monster**

_(2p! England x Reader)_

You had always heard stories about the bakery down the street from your house, the one with the pink and blue sign that always seemed to shine. There were mixed reviews, gushing about how great the cupcakes were, only to fall ill a few days later. But it was never shut down, that little bakery always passed the health inspections, being as neat as any other run-of-the-mill store. There was only one employee, a young man with the heart of a boy, who ran the bakery religiously. It opened form the early hours of the morning, when even the owls didn't dare lay awake, to the latest hours of the night when all was silent and the only noise was the circling hum of the street lights and, on warm nights, the sound of crickets.

Curiosity bubbled inside you every time you would pass the brightly lit store. Every time you gazed through the glass windows on your way to school, a man would be sitting by the counter with a large grin, waiting to greet the first customer. And as you passed the shop on your way home from school, he would still be there, smiling ceremoniously whilst waiting at the counter.

It took about a week of observing the shopkeeper before you decided to enter the bakery. As soon as the bell above the cool glass door tinkled excitedly, the gaze of the baker landed on you. When you first look at a picture, there's always that one thing that your eyes seem to immediately take notice of, somehow being attracted to that point despite how hard you tried to look away. For you, it was his eyes. They were a pale teal color swirled inside a pink whirl, cotton candy that matched his sickly sweet smile. Through gazing through the window, you never took note of those eyes; they were always shaded away from you. But now they were wide and imploring, welcoming you to the shop of dreams. They seemed to lull you in, forcing you to step further into the tidy store. This sort of attraction screamed danger, but you ignored if for the moment of euphoria that passed through you just gazing into those warm eyes. And even as he spoke in a melodious tone that jingled in your tinted ears, you didn't falter in your admiration for the man. And it was no longer simply his eyes that entranced you, it was his whole being. Now you could notice the freckles that splattered across his rosy red cheeks in sloppy disarray. The strawberry blonde hair ruffled over his scalp, half-masking his bushy eyebrows of the same color. Your eyes traveled below the merry smile on his face, to the teal bowtie hugging his neck, the salmon dress shirt and sweater vest of a darker hue. A teal nametag was clipped to his vest with a simple name. _Oliver._ You couldn't see past his abdomen due to the restricting counter that separated the two of you, but you assured yourself it was just as mesmerizing as the upper half. You quivered slightly as you stepped forwards, legs trembling in trepidation, unable to read his thoughts on you due to that same mirthful beam that never faltered, not even for a second. You tried your best to pull away your gaze, but it remained locked on his swirling eyes, so disorienting that they seemed to swirl despite the astronomical improbability. Your feet had abandoned rational thought and advanced towards the man. You were right next to the counter when your brain seemed to catch up to your actions and you were able to stop the rebellious feet, composing your thoughts and trying your very hardest not to blush cherry red at how insanely ridiculous you must just looked.

"Hello poppet! What can I help you with?" He said in an extravagantly elegant English accent, almost making your self-control crumble again and mush into jelly. But you kept yourself secure, mirroring the baker's smile.

"Oh I'm just looking! You have a nice store!" You gushed, eyes trailing downwards to the variety of cooked sweets. It took you a moment to realize everything on display was a variant of cupcakes, filled with different flavors and topped with different hues of icing. Your smile, however, never faltered. And you were far too indulged in the sweets before you to notice the small slip of his lips as it, only for a second, turned into a menacing scowl.

"Why thanks poppet! I do my best to make all these cupcakes original! ~" He says, shuffling behind the counter so he was facing you through the glass. You tried your best not to be lured into those eyes again, but they were so luscious and delectable you couldn't help but glance at his face. With him pressed close to the glass barrier and surrounded by the unique cupcakes, you could see him so much closer. Your face heated up slightly as you could study his face closely. You could almost count the freckles dusting his cheeks, and you could even catch a hint of red icing next to his lips that begged for you to lick it off him.

You shook yourself from your thoughts. Such a sudden infatuation never proved good. Erecting yourself so you were no longer leaning towards the glass display case, you straightened out your back and looked to the shopkeeper who had risen as well.

"Well these look great, but I'm running a bit late. Maybe tomorrow I'll buy something!" You say with a slight tilt of your head. You turned your back to leave when you heard his charming voice pipe up once more.

"Here! How about a sample for the road? My treat!" He says. You turn to see a cupcake in his hand, which was extended towards you. You froze, eyes absorbing the scene. He was offering you a cupcake? That seemed a bit off, but with his lopsided grin and the twinkle in his eyes, there was no way you could decline.

You moved back towards the counter and gently grasped the cupcake, blushing slightly when your hands touched his cool ones. He watched you with excited and eager eyes, watching as you brought your lips to the blue-frosted cupcake. Gingerly, you bit into the side, feeling the soft cupcake crumble under your teeth. The sugary icing tickled your taste buds and melted in your warm mouth, sliding satisfyingly down your throat as you swallowed with an audible sigh. It was only when you went in to take a second bite did you feel something_ off. _Because intermingled with the sweet, sugary taste of icing and the vanilla base, there was another taste. It was something metallic.

Feeling apprehensive, you withdrew the cupcake from your mouth, wide eyes staring at the appealing cupcake. But as you stared, you noticed the yellow bottom take on a different hue, one much more venomous and foreboding.

Red.

Eyes wide, you couldn't pull your gaze away from the red goo that oozed out the center of the cupcake, freed now that an entrance was created. It mixed with the crumbs of the base and dripped onto your hand, staining it crimson. The revolting stench of iron hit your nose like a tidal wave. You staggered slightly, dropping the cupcake to the floor as you lost your footing, swaying lightly. Dizziness hit you in waves, almost knocking you off your feet with each wave. Your legs pitched forward, and you grasped at the glass display case for support, only for your bloody hand to slip downward, trailing a smeary line of red as you fell to the floor. Weariness weighed down on you, and you could hear the muffled sound of footsteps before a cheery face entered your blurry vision.

"Sleep tight, poppet!" He tittered before your vision gave way completely.

_He's right, don't start_

'_Till you're his own_

_Form of art_

_He's doing his part_

'_Cause he's winning my heart_

Waking up brought a dull ache to the back of your skull, pounding away at a rhythmic drum that only brought pain. Red dots swam through your vision and you scrunched your eyes tighter together in an attempt to rid yourself of that nuisance. Your back was stiff and the material you were resting on was course and cold, the frost seeping through your thin shirt and to the goose bump-laden skin below. You tilted your head to the side and scrunched your face further as the ache settled into the back of your mind. You attempted to curl up into a ball to suppress the numbing cold, but you found yourself restrained. Suddenly alerted, your eyes snapped open, heart pounding inside your rapidly rising chest.

Eyes shifting around the room, you could hardly make out what was a foot in front of you. No light entered the room and the only sound you could hear was the faint drip of water somewhere far off. Your eyes slowly adjusted, absorbing any hint of light they could find. Soon enough, you could see a silhouette of a rectangle, about 6 feet tall. You squinted slightly as you tried to make out what it was, until you caught sight of hair.

"Hello?" You called out, hoping this was a person and not whoever had tied you up here. There was the noise of stirring, and leather grinding against skin, before a moan was heard. You heard more rustling and a distressed, hoarse moan. It sent chills down your spine, and this time not from the cold. At least you weren't alone, wherever you may be.

You weren't sure how long you were down there; with no indication of light there was no chance of telling. You were stuck in a limbo between awareness and slumber, slipping into a daze like state every so often, your eyes drooping and your mind vanishing elsewhere. You were able to conclude that a sedative landed you here, from what blurry memories you could recall from the event. You just remembered a cheery voice, red cupcakes, and cotton candy.

There was the noise resembling the squeak of hinges, followed by a beam of light that seemed to be a godsend. The other girl simply whimpered; it seemed all she could do. Your eyes were squinted under the harsh new addition of light, and you were forced to turn your head. The sound of someone bounding down the stairs met your ears, implying that you were in some cellar. When the ceiling stopped quaking under the person's bouncing downstairs, you realized he must be downstairs and turned towards the light. Your eyes were now adjusted, and you could vaguely make out a figure silhouetted in the light coming from the upper floors. You could outline the sharp points of his hair and the slightly bounce in his step as he advanced deeper into the cellar, skipping slightly and humming a jolly tune. When he noticed your glinting eyes in the harsh light, he moved towards you. Him closer, you could see the strawberry kissed blond hair, and blue eyes swirling around pink that brought a jolt of memories from you.

"O-Oliver?" You squeaked, vaguely recalling the nametag. You remembered a bakery, smelling of cherries and candy, a bright-eyed boy with a killer smile.

"Oh, poppet, you're awake! What a lovely surprise, wouldn't want you to miss anything!" He said, leaning in so your noses almost touched. You could smell his breath, filled with peppermints and sugar. You held eye contact with him for a painstaking amount of time, mesmerized by those swirling eyes of his that seemed to glow in the ominous lighting.

Finally he pulled away, allowing you to exhale a breath of air you didn't even know you were holding. He flounced over to something in the corner, and soon light engulfed the entire room. You realized he had flicked on a light switch, and a light bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling was now lit, giving the room a flickering glow. Now in full light, you could absorb the room.

The entire room was painted a pale pink, with chips in the cemented wall proving the age of the whole thing. It looked like he tried to add life to the dark dungeon but only gave it the appearance of a deserted playroom. There were red dots and splatters near the bottom of the wall, but you preferred not to dwell on the meaning of them. Instead you tried to focus on Oliver, who was hunched over a metal table. The red seemed to mix in the pink there, and you could even see some hidden underneath a pink layer, indicating that he had tried to hide the marks. He turned back around with a smirk and a glint in the light momentarily blinded you. Looking to the cause, you could see a well-polished kitchen knife gleaming in his right hand, a sadistic smirk set on his face. You heard a terrified moan, and it was then you remembered you weren't quiet alone with this predator. Eyes darting to the other side of the room, your eyes widened significantly at the sight of your companion.

It was a girl, you could tell that. Dark brown hair clung to her face, sticking to tear tracts that had dried onto her tanned face. She seemed to have been taken care of more harshly, seeing as how she was raised upwards on a metal slab bolted to the wall. She was naked, the only coverage were leather straps sufficient enough to cover her breasts and hips as well as keep her ankles, wrists and forehead secured. A gag was wrapped around his mouth to quiet her petrified squeaks. Her eyes were wide and shining, clearly evident of her shock and terror. Tears were already welled up inside her sclera as Oliver took menacing steps toward her. The only sounds were his eerie footsteps, her hoarse whimpers, and the rustling of his clothes. He paused about a foot away from her, his smile never fading away as she closed her eyes in anticipated pain.

"Poor girl, you must be terrified" Oliver cooed, glancing upwards at the elevated girl. Her only response was to scrunch her eyes together tighter and let out a defeated snivel. Oliver laughed and turned to you, his eyes swirling in a maniacal loop and his grin elongated so it appeared almost Glasgow.

"Now, can you guess why she's got the gag?" Oliver asked. You knew the question was directed at you. Hesitantly you shook your head, watching as his eyes lit up, obviously ecstatic to have to explain it to you.

"Oh really? Well then, allow me to tell you a story before the real fun begins. See, Isabel here has been here for a while. My, it's been so long I almost lost track! I think it's been a week, right Izzy-dear? And she had a friend here, such a sweet girl! Her name was Margaret, right? Or maybe it was Mary? I can't quite recall right now! But digressions aside, she didn't really like playing with me, so she had to be put in time out. Oh, she learned her lesson. I'm sure she's doing great right now, all snug inside someone's bowels! I think she might be in you, poppet!" He explained and your eyes widened as you suddenly felt bile rise in your throat. The girl, Isabel, had resorted to silent sobbing, her body wracking as tears overcame her once more.

"Anyways, Isabel wasn't ready to say goodbye to her friend just yet. I think she wanted to play a little more, so she tried to join Margaret! But don't bite your tongue; I managed to keep Izzy here a little longer so she can play some more! Her mummy said it was okay, too!" Oliver narrated giddily.

So it was so bad here Isabel tried to bite off her own tongue? You gulped, wondering just what torture Oliver had in mind for you. But at least there was someone else he was more preoccupied with at the moment.

"Well now you're all caught up with all the drama, poppet, I think it's time Izzy returns home. Mummy might be wondering where she is." Oliver said, eyes swirling dangerously as he returned his attention to the bound girl. He gripped the knife in his hand tight, his knuckles turning pallid under the pressure. He approached Isabel with an ominous smirk, stopping once more mere centimeters away from her. He moved his arm up so the knife was tickling her flat stomach, which showed obvious signs of starvation over the past week. He traced it across her stomach, savoring her shuddering body and weak cries, muffled pleas to stop. It was a moment of that sort of dangerous tickle torture before he decided to try something new. He pulled up his left arm and Isabel flinched, obviously frightened of what may be enclosed in his other palm. Instead, both you and her were surprised to find it was simply a cupcake. Her eyes widened, relief clear in her eyes when the knife stopped its rhythmic dance across her belly.

"Fancy a cupcake, dear? This was your friend's favorite flavor!" Oliver said, shoving the cupcake near her face. This one was done less delicately, with simple pink frosting and a vanilla base that showed spots of red. When she recognized the scheme, she rapidly shook her head in a clear sign of denial. Oliver frowned slightly, urging the cupcake towards her mouth.

"Why not? I'm sure it's yummy! You liked the other cupcakes I baked for you~" Oliver sang. The pink icing was now tickling her chapped lips, the gag cut off seconds before by the knife so the cupcake was accessible to Isabel.

"Please no," She begged in a far-off whisper, her words almost lost in Oliver's fitful giggling. Oliver narrowed his eyes and attempted to shove the cupcake down her throat, succeeding in getting it into her mouth and ending her sobs. She spluttered under the new food before she coughed, splattering the cupcake on the floor beneath her. It crumbled under the contact, breaking apart for the inner parts of the cupcake to peek through. Blood leaked out of the center, accompanied by what looked like an eroded finger. Isabel began a new set of sobs, this time more lurid due to the lack of restraint covering her mouth. Oliver abandoned his prey temporarily, his eyes trained on the mess on the floor. He dropped to his knees, his khaki pants wrinkling under his body as he stared down at the splattering of gore and cupcake matter.

"Oh my, what a waste!" Oliver said, prodding the cupcake slightly, covering his finger in red and pink. He slowly licked his finger, sighing in satisfaction while Isabel wretched.

"You see, I don't like to hate things Izzy. Everything deserves to be loved unconditionally" Oliver began, regaining his composure and standing to stand over Isabel again. "But sometimes I make exceptions. You see, there are only a few things I truly hate. One of those is messes. The second one is wasting perfectly good food," Oliver started, the knife poised right below the leather strap near her breasts, tickling her skin slightly and allowing more goose bumps to pop up. "And right now, I hate you~" Oliver whispered as the knife broke her skin barrier and dug itself deep in, wedging its way in between her ribcages. She gasped out in pain, tears lighting a path down her face once more as she pulled in laborious breaths. Oliver then withdrew the knife, slightly splattering blood against his sweater vest, only to plunge it in once more in the same spot, digging its way up to the hilt of the kitchen knife. From there, he cut a way down with sawing motions, tearing through tissue, veins, arteries, capillaries and organs. Isabel screamed out with each motion, her voice growing weaker the more he sawed. As he moved the knife in and out of her stomach, he began to sing a happy tune that seemed to brighten the room, drawing the attention from the cries of pain and mercy.

"_The knife goes in"_ He rushed the bloody knife into her once more.

"_The knife goes out" _He withdrew it slightly as her approached her navel.

"_I'll stab until your screams pour out," _He chirped over her hoarse screams

"_I'll pour your organs on the floor," _A hole in her stomach was created.

"_Then you won't scream anymore,"_ He finished the tune, pulling out the knife once more.

Now Isabel was just a bumbling mess. Blood dripped down from her mouth and staining her chin. She gargled slightly as she choked on her own fluids. The knife was stained red from the tip to the hilt, even spattering on Oliver's hand slightly. Blood had squirted out at different intervals and had landed on various parts of the madman, from his face to his pants he was covered in crimson. He licked at a dab of blood near his lips, dropping the knife in a puddle of blood pooling under the girl. The cupcake was covered in red from her own blood and soggy from the watery substance.

"Now I wonder what tasty things you've got hidden in you~" Oliver cooed as he gripped the two flabs of skin, separated by the rough sawing of the knife. He pulled them okay, and watched as several bodily fluids poured out from the opening, a few severed organs included. Oliver laughed giddily as he bent down and picked up an impaled kidney. Yellowish pus oozed out of the wound and the room smelled of ammonia. Oliver giggled and licked the area where the affliction was, humming as the taste of urinary acids swirled inside his mouth delectably. You, on the other hand, felt sick. Still, you couldn't be entranced by his actions. The melody hidden in his childish voice as he sang the song, the look of pure delight in his eyes as the light died from Isabel's eyes. It was mesmerizing, and it soothed you somehow.

You continued to watch as he merrily removed the organs from his newest victim, setting them on a table nearby and wiping away the excess blood and excretory fluids with either a cloth or his own tongue. The expertise behind the actions amazed and entranced you somehow, and you were unable to draw your eyes away from him as he worked.

He had to pick up the knife again in order to hack away organs such as lungs from their bindings, but each time it came loose and flopped into his eager arms, he would cry out in triumph and snuggle the cushioned organ slightly. It brought an upward tilt of your parched lips, but it wasn't noticeable to the vile man before you.

He worked on other things, as you lay restrained, bottling up some blood he withdrew from different sections of her body. He had excitedly opened up her stomach as if it were some present on Christmas, eagerly withdrawing whatever half-digested objects he could find with his gentle fingers. He had collected some of the hydrochloric acid lying in her stomach. But his pleasure was finding a cupcake in her stomach, partially digested from an earlier time when it was forced down her throat.

It didn't even repulse you when he began to chow down the cupcake.

You weren't sure how long it took until he finished fully withdrawing her organs. Your eyes never moved away from him, watching as he chopped off her tongue, an action he was previously against her doing. He then proceeded to gouge out her eyes, licking away the juices before setting them aside with the rest of her bodily organs.

Many more organs were removed in the time allotted, and when the final organ, her brain, was removed and set aside with the others, he wiped his grime-covered hands on his blood-soaked khakis. When he attempted to pull his fingers away, trails of goo attempted to keep them glued to his pants, but he managed to separate them from his digits. With that out of the way, he turned to you.

"Oh, I didn't even realize you were still awake, poppet! Most of my friends usually go to bed by now~" He said. You couldn't move, your eyes were still stuck on him. Red mixed in with his freckles, making it seem that there were more than normal and a dab resided next to his mouth. You wanted to lick it away, but your restraints prevented you from doing so.

You couldn't speak for a moment, but when you found your voice, your words were accompanied by a Cheshire grin. "I enjoyed watching you," You said honestly.

Oliver looked taken aback, bringing a hand to his heart in surprise.

"You enjoyed that, poppet?" He asked. You nodded exuberantly, your smile growing even wider.

"It looked like you were having fun. Those organs must've been tasty~" you chimed thoughtfully with a small giggle.

"Well of course poppet! You know, you could always try some too. I didn't think you'd be interested in this, seeing your reaction upstairs!~" Oliver inquired softly, his swirled eyes narrowing in slight confusion.

"I-I'd like to try some!" You announce, eyes shifting to the pile of organs on the operating table nearby. Oliver nodded and bounced over, taking a moment to take inventory of his stock. He took a moment of scrutinizing the organs, looking for one he'd hope you enjoy. He turned around with an arrogant look accompanying his confident strides. A gooey mass was covered in his hands, and after scrupulous examining; you could identify it as the heart. It had long since stopped beating, lying limp in his arms as he extended the organ to you. You attempted to grip it, but remembered your arms were restrained. Oliver seemed to realize and he gingerly placed down the heart to help unbuckle.

"Sorry about that, poppet! Thought you'd put up more of a struggle~" He said with a slight giggle. You laughed as well, eyes wide as you stared at the heart. Your stomach rumbled in anticipation. Oliver scooped up the organ again and held it out for you.

"Personally, it's my favorite! Since I can't really give you my heart, maybe someone else can substitute as a surrogate" He said and you giggled at the joke, blushing slightly at the implication of love. Your hands shook slightly as you raised the red organ to your face. The iron smell of blood hit your nose, but you dispelled the pungent scent. Oliver's eager eyes were trained on you as your tongue flicked out to give a hesitant look. You were only met with the metallic taste of blood, but you didn't mind. Next, you opened your mouth and grazed your teeth against the skin of the heart, feeling it slice under your incisors. You were taken aback by the delicious taste.

"It's great, Ollie!" You say happily, throwing your arms around the blood-splattered boy without relinquishing your grip on the heart.

"I'm glad, poppet. I'm glad, my Cupcake Queen," he said with a bright smile.


End file.
